Her Sister's Shoes
by Elphaba'sGirl
Summary: Oh, the shoes. Those beautiful, perfect, wretched jeweled shoes, which were so splendidly silver on the real Nessarose's feet.


**I know I know. Two oneshots in one day. What? I'm feeling inspired.**

**disclaimer: if wicked were mine, I'd tell you. Believe me.**

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"_Elphaba_," Nessarose snapped at her older sister.

The raven-haired girl turned back from the window, where the dying sun bled glittering rays onto a canvas of gold-tinged sky. She sighed, her eyes closing gently, and returned to assist her sister, who was seated at her vanity.

Nessarose was eighteen years old. She was disabled; a wheelchair provided her mobility. She was, according to most, tragically beautiful. She was "Frexspar's Daughter." She was the future Eminent Thropp, of Munchkinland.

Elphaba was three years her senior, though her green skin had been enough of a sin to convince Frexspar to relieve her of her impending duties as Eminent Thropp. _She_ was beautifully tragic.

Elphaba expertly laced up the back of Nessarose's dress, just a little too tight to be comfortable, but that was how her sister liked it.

She ran a brush through Nessa's hair until it shone, ever so beautifully, and braided the long, red locks into a glittering crown.

"My jeweled shoes, Elphaba," Nessarose demanded, and Elphaba knelt before her sister's closet to retrieve the desired footwear. The shoes were silver. They were beautiful. Elphaba sighed softly when she looked at them. So beautiful.

They were so clear, so perfect and so absolutely _shining_, that Elphaba could see her reflection in the dainty jeweled toes.

The green girl winced and looked away.

She slid the shoes- which had been a going away present from Frexspar before collage- onto Nessa's dainty feet, then rocked back on her heels, looking up at her beautiful sister.

"Will that be all, Nessarose?" She asked softly, and Nessa smiled cruelly at her reflection in the mirror before nodding. She was _wickedly_ beautiful.

"You are dismissed."

And Elphaba curtsied deeply (not allowing her gaze to fall again to the silver jeweled shoes) and exited the room.

The hallways were decked out in all their finery, with thick velvet curtains sweeping the ground, but Elphaba took no time to admire them as she walked. They were only for Nessa, tonight. It was _her_ birthday.

Elphaba stopped only a moment as she reached a large window. It was snowing, which was not uncommon for December.

She reached the parlor, which during the day would be flooded with light, but was now as dark as the inky black sky.

She fished about in the closet, and retrieved a large canvas and paints.

She hummed softly to herself as she set to work. She set the horizon line, and painted the great dome of the sky, complete with tiny snowflakes- as dainty as Nessarose herself- dancing down into the black night. She painted a sprawling landscape, with a single figure in the centre.

her mother had taught her to paint, ever so long ago. It was December then, too.

_Someone holds me safe and warm  
Horses prance through a silver storm  
Figures dancing gracefully  
Across my memory..._

The figure was sitting in a large, ornately decorated chair, in the painting. She had dark, sweeping eyebrows that set off her doe-like eyes, glittering with malice. She had soft, plump lips, twisted harshly into a too-sweet smile.

_Far away, long ago  
Glowing dim as an ember  
Things my heart used to know  
Things it yearns to remember_

Her dress was white, white as the snow that matched her cold heart, and stopped above her shins to show off the slippers on her feet.

And oh, the shoes. Those beautiful jeweled shoes.

_And a song someone sings  
Once upon a December_

Elphaba had painted each single jewel in all its glory, and the toe that came gently to a point on the small feet.

Elphaba had painted her sister, perfect in her terrifying beauty, down to the last detail.

Yes, every detail was perfect.

Except for the shoes.

Oh, the shoes. Those beautiful, perfect, _wretched_ jeweled shoes, which were so splendidly silver on the real Nessarose's feet.

Not in the painting.

No. Elphaba had painted them blood red.

**So... Thoughts? Favorite lines? **

**The song is Once Upon a December from Anastasia, which just randomly fit the scene. (I'm in a fairytale mood from AEG guys...)  
**


End file.
